


Cover

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet: 900 [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Drama, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. Gavin and Noah have their little due talk in the rain.





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**Author's Note:**

> Banter. These two have become one of our new favorite things to write about. <3
> 
> Why? Read! You’ll see. :3

A steaming-hot cup of coffee was not adequate protection against 32° temperatures with freezing rain.

As was his way, Noah couldn’t help his need to mention this. His human partner was by no means as impervious to the elements as himself. If Gavin was somehow trying to pretend to that effect, he was doing a poor job. His clothes were not the climate-controlled fashion the wealthier denizens of Detroit could afford.

Perched (because what other word was there for it, concerning a winged android) atop the stack of pallets, Noah paused only to brush slushy snow from his eyes. The rain continued its miserable-looking drizzle around them, unabated. As always, Mother Nature cared not what she wrought on humanity.

Proxy-human androids included.

“You’re shivering, Detective.”

“No, I'm not, I'm just fuckin’ - excited,” Gavin grumbled, even as he wrapped one arm around himself, rubbing his shoulder. “For this night to be over.”

“That’s a half-truth at best, and you know it.”

“Half-truth is better than a lie, huh? Take what you can get.” At that, his other arm went around himself, effectively making his original argument clearly false. The lidded cup of coffee continued to pipe steam, almost indistinguishable as it was from the rain.

A quick scan of the styrofoam container revealed it was mostly depleted already. Gavin had only procured it twenty minutes ago. And by the nature of the job given to them, they were probably looking forward to a stakeout of some two hours’ time, at least. The weather wasn’t projected to let up for another three.

The ambient air temperature would only go colder, the longer into the night they waited. But the cruiser wasn’t an option. Keeping it anywhere nearby would tip their would-be suspects off to their presence.

Looking down at himself, Noah supposed his mostly-white attire and wings would do the same. This was far from practical, on both their parts. Gavin’s drawn-up hood was already soaked through.

“Here.” Sensing the immediate futility of talking the detective into an alternative arrangement, unfurling a wing to cover him was the next-best option. “So long as you insist on being difficult.”

Glancing up at the wing over him, Gavin gave into it with a sigh. “Well, what else can I insist on? Gotta be unique, who else is as difficult as me? …Thanks, though, Noah.”

One arm unwrapped itself, going back to his near-empty cup of coffee.

Some example to follow. If being unique was tantamount to having an attitude, Noah knew better than to follow suit. His lookalike back at Central had temper enough to spare. Hanging around Lieutenant Anderson seemed to bring it out in him. If Noah was any kind of better than that, he wouldn’t let Gavin’s disreputable behavior corrupt his own.

But that he still retained some impression of manners was comforting to hear.

“You’re welcome.”

After a moment, Gavin glanced back up at him with narrowed eyes, keeping them there for a few seconds longer than he usually did. Nonplussed, Noah stared right back, the most lively-looking gargoyle in existence. “What about you, huh? You ain't cold, or anythin’? Water not gonna hurt you?”

“No.”

He could have been more elaborate in his reply. But those overthought responses were typically only ever met with a scoff.

“...Wanna explain that a bit more? Give me somethin’ to focus on, other than the fact I feel like I'm slowly gonna freeze to death?”

Noah frowned, refraining once again from the urge to point out this manner of stakeout was Reed’s idea. The human had years more of actual experience in this sort of scenario. And androids were made to follow human leads.

No matter how top-of-the-line they were.

“My sensors tell me you won’t be in actual hypothermic danger for at least another hour.”

“Aw, fuck. Great. So I get to just suffer until then,” Gavin lamented, shaking his head at the knowledge. He had no one but himself to blame for this. “If I decide this is a good idea ever again, punch me as hard as you can, Noah. This is torture.”

Processing the implications of that order, emitting only a few soft beeps for effect, Noah raised an eyebrow. “But - it’s against my program to harm the same human I’m assigned to.”

“Fuck your programmin’. Just think, like - one punch is a lot less harmful to me than staying out here all night long.” Gavin spread his arms at the rationalization, as if it made perfect sense. “Really, it's _less_ harm.”

So it wasn’t about dealing damage for damage’s sake. It was a means to prevent Reed from harming himself. That made sense. He already worked a risky-enough job without falling victim to his own character flaws.

“Understood, Detective.” With a sideways look at his extended wing, Noah took a pause to readjust it. The rain began to slide back, dripping off the tips of its feathers, as opposed to running in spread all around. “And to answer your earlier query, no, the water is of no consequence to me. Nor is the cold. Being of sound state when we began to observe - ”

(In hindsight, the explanation proved far too wordy.)

“Okay, okay, I think I get it, dude. Future computer is future, can't get hurt from a little bit of weather,” Gavin said, waving one hand toward him dismissively. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn't gonna have to buy you an umbrella.”

That was worth a bemused blink. Rather than feel appreciative of the idea, his processor immediately went to addressing the financial expense issue. Gavin shouldn’t have to do that for him. Their dynamic was meant to be the other way around.

“And if you did, for some unforeseen reason, CyberLife would be happy to fill that requisition. It’d be no money out of your pocket.”

“They always gotta try and show a guy up, huh? Fuck, just when I was extending my kindness past Colby…”

Blinking again, a gust of raindrops blew into his face. Almost fussily, Noah wiped them off his cheeks. Unintentional or not, that little wake-up slap from Mother Nature helped reorient him.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. That was just - program talk.”

“You didn't sound ungrateful, shut up. I was bein’ sarcastic, as always.” Gavin shook his head at him, half in jest. “And you were supposed to ask who Colby is, so I can talk about my cat.”

Noah’s fingers twitched, irritation with himself successfully repressed. Another strike against his social relations subroutine. Even with his temper, Connor’s was more fine-tuned than his youngest ‘sibling’s’.

Perks of being older.

“Very well. Who is Colby?”

“My asshole of a cat. Dude gets all he can have, _still_ wakes me up at 2 am, because he wants to go outside, or to play with somethin’, or just to be a brat in general.” Gavin scoffed at the past instances he was recalling, before giving up with a smile. “He's lucky I got attached early. Else he wouldn't be half as spoiled and demanding.”

Oh.

Well, that certainly explained the man’s ability to tolerate his plastic partner’s more-unusual aspects. He wasn’t half as demanding as the four-legged nuisance ruling Reed’s domicile.

Said cat was probably curled up on a blanket as they spoke, all warm and fluffy and dry.

Noah hadn’t yet met the animal, and he could admit to experiencing some misplaced envy, then and there. And besides that, quiet admiration for the fact Gavin wasn’t entirely without compassion, be it for animals or (purportedly, and to a far lesser extent) androids.

Where did Noah fit on that scale, he wondered.

“And the nights you spend at the station, who takes care of Colby, then?”

“Solo nights for him. He's got his automatic feeder and water dish, honestly, he'd probably be fine with that and an open window. Not like I got anyone to call for that.”

Somber thought. But then again, Reed wasn’t one to maintain a wide net of friendly contacts. That went so far as to exclude his immediate neighbors.

“True. …How did you become his owner?”

“More like, how did I get stuck with him… uh, he just sorta appeared around the block one day. I - you tell anyone else, I swear to God, but - I always liked cats, have a thing for them or somethin’. So when no one said he was theirs’, I just - took him home.” Gavin shrugged, clearly a bit embarrassed and unused to sharing an apparent affinity for cats that he harbored.

But wasn’t this what he meant in saying to ask about said cat?

Why instruct Noah to if it made him uncomfortable?

Declining the impulse to inquire as much, Noah folded his arms. His once-white sleeves had been turned off-white by the rain. “‘No one said he was theirs’,” he repeated, as tonelessly as he knew how, without veering into deadpanning territory. “One could almost claim the same about me.”

“...Shit, Noah. I'm not really the best person for this, but, uh - you don't _have_ to be anyone's. You can just be for yourself.” Gavin shrugged again, brows furrowed, seemingly struggling with what he was trying to say. Grasping for a distraction, he downed the last of the coffee. “You're not a fuckin’ cat, like Colby. You're like… like, I dunno. You're Noah.”

A few beeps later, the correlation search came up empty.

Disregarding it’s momentary failure as one not worth being bothered about, he tried for a very slight smile, one Reed wouldn’t see, but nevertheless hear.

“What’s the defining difference, though? I speak English, while Colby doesn’t?”

“Pfft, that can be one of them. Maybe you're closer to a parrot, or somethin’.” Gavin shook his head, eyes rolling at the comparison of Noah to another bird. The wing held poised over his head made avoiding such a thing nigh impossible. “No, dude. It's like… uh… shit, I'm really bad at this whole, comforting, find-yourself mess, okay? But - I guess I want you to be comfortable with yourself, for yourself. Not because someone wants you to be.”

A nice sentiment, if not a little more confusing. The smile dropped from Noah’s face.

“Whatever gave you the impression I’m… uncomfortable?”

“Uhh, because you clearly _are_. Not exactly fittin’ in with the rest of the androids here, eh?” Gavin looked back up at him, one eyebrow raised, as if challenging him to disagree. “Listen, it takes one to know one, Noah. I'm not sayin’ any of this because I've got no clue what it's like.”

_No. You’re saying you know what it’s like, because you can empathize with being estranged. But who’s fault is that? On either of your’s part?_

Fully aware of how his LED (or “idiot light”, as Anderson liked to say) went yellow, giving away the depth of his thoughts, Noah frowned - this time it was an actual, noticeable scowl. Gavin may be a policeman, but he was still one apart from his colleagues.

That made two of them.

“Are you saying… Does this make us… friends?”

“...I guess it does, huh? Be prepared to be disappointed if you wanna consider me that, then. I'm not sure I'm gonna meet all those standards for a good one.”

Noah tilted his head. If that statement was meant to dissuade him, it didn’t work. “Officially, you would be my first, Detective. As yet, I have no standards.”

“Ha! Was that a fuckin’ compliment, or an insult?” Gavin asked, before covering his mouth with one hand to stop the spontaneous laughter that was already coming out. He turned away as if to hide the ensuing grin. “Eh, I'll take it, anyway. Glad I can help you move on to bigger and better things.”

Bigger and better things, such as not standing in the freezing rain, waiting to apprehend suspects that only demonstrated a 30% chance of actually turning up on a Wednesday at this particular warehouse in eastern Dearborn.

The scowl dropped. “I won’t be going anywhere just yet. Maybe we can just settle for helping each other, call that even.”

“Sure, dude. Sounds like something even I can do.” At that, Gavin held his fist up to him without looking, as if he was expecting him to do something with it. After a second of not receiving whatever he was looking for, he turned back to look at Noah. “...What? You've never done a fuckin’ fistbump?”

The metaphorical list of things he had never done was probably long enough to wrap around CyberLife Tower, ground floor to its uppermost spire.

“No.” One brisk Internet search later, he understood. Unfolding one arm, he reached out to rap his knuckles against Gavin’s - gently enough so as to not bruise them. “But now I have. Thank you.”

After the pains taken to keep him dry, that felt fair enough.


End file.
